


Switched

by This_person_cant_write



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Human Jack, Human jack is just jack but with more, Hurt/Comfort, Is also very clumsy, Jack Frost (Guardians of Childhood) is a Little Shit, Jack frost is slightly darker, he did suffer intense isolation, i imagine human jack is like immortal jack but with more responsibilities, jack doesn’t want to die but he supposes he has too, time swap, two jacks, we love a clumsy boy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2019-09-29 06:16:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17198093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/This_person_cant_write/pseuds/This_person_cant_write
Summary: Jack came to a realisation, a realisation that he probably should have come too when he accidentally burned his hand on the fire he was making breakfast on, that he wasn’t in a dream, and this was all very. Very real.Or Jack Frost and Jackson Overland switch bodies





	1. Jack

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy? OOOPS, I may have made an oopsy and made Jack 400 years old but kept Jamie and everyone still uh, alive? So lets just imagine that that isn't a major plot hole :)

Jack was no stranger to weird happenings. In fact, you could call his entire existence a weird happening. He was, technically a living zombie, minus the decay and brain eating aspect. In all honesty he just shouldn’t exist. But he did. Jack had spent much of his spirit life after recovering his memories wondering what it would have been like if he survived. If he lived and died like he was supposed too. With a wife, a couple of mini Jacks, and dying at the age of 45. A nice, ordinary life. Jack didn’t want to be ungrateful for the second chance he was given but on some nights he just liked to wonder. It just so happened that it was one of those nights. It also just so happened that at the same time Jack loudly proclaimed he wished he could go back and see his sister just one last time, as very bored Cikavac* flew over head. Naturally, with nothing better to do, the Cikavac obliged. (* Cikavac are apparently wish granting creatures? Look them up they look like birds)

It was cold. Jack new something was terribly wrong. Jack was never cold. He is the cold. He opened his eyes wearily, in his 400 years of existence he has learnt to not make rash moments or decisions when in an unfamiliar environment. He was staring at a wooden ceiling. Okay. At least it isn’t Pitches lair, Jack thought to himself, but it isn’t Norths place either. North wouldn’t let Jack sleep on a plank of wood. Jack assumed he was on some sort of bed, a thin blanket had been placed on top of him, a pathetic barrier against the cold outside. Jack wondered if they new about duvets. Jack decided that whoever placed him here probably wasn’t a threat considering he wasn’t tied up. Jack thought back to earlier, he was only sitting by his lake, maybe he fell asleep and was attacked? Maybe some spirit found him and brought them to their home? The smell of something familiar stopped his train of thought. Someone was cooking? Jacks stomach growled loudly, surprising Jack further, he hadn’t eaten in months but his hunger had never been that bad before. With a groan and a couple of clicks from his back, Jack got up and went to reach for his staff. His staff, where was it. Panicked Jack looked around, the room was small but cosy. A old chest of wooden draws was too his left, on top were odd shaped stones, dried flowers and other objects he couldn’t identify. The morning sun, Jack assumed it was morning, broke through the single sheet covering the window, not enough to block out the sun but enough to keep privacy. There was also a sliver bowl, shiny from over polishing, and a bar of soap. Jack walked over the the bowl, it’s reflective surface catching Jacks reflection in a manner he was particularly concerned by. 

His hair was brown. A dark, hazel brown. Not his normal white hair which was frozen at the roots, but soft, brown hair. Jack looked closely, his eyes. No longer were they blue, a colour he came to love after finding his hoody, cast away at a park. Jack sympathised with that hoody, he and that hoody were one of the same. Jacks hand went to pull the edge of his jumpers sleeve only to be met with a fabric he hadn’t worn in a long time. Jack looked down at himself, the only familiar aspect of his outfit were his trousers, and they looked relatively new. Jack swallowed in disbelief. Where on earth was he. 

Laughter echoed from below him, it sounded like a child’s voice. If a child is here then they must be in danger, maybe they don’t know what’s happening either. With a new found courage, Jack made his way out of the room, the stairs were immediately to his right, he stepped on the first step. Jack winced as a loud creak echoed around him. He paused, waiting for something to happen, for his captive or saviour to open the door at the bottom. After a good few minutes of standing still, Jack stepped down again, this time the stair didn’t creak. Thank goodness, Jack thought. At the bottom of the steps Jack grabbed the handle, it again was cold, Jack didn’t like it, the cold was uncomfortable, it hurt in his bones and made him shiver. Turning the handle he went inside.

Home. The word assaulted Jacks mind as he stepped through the door. The smell of cooked rabbit, the laughter of someone very dear to him and the heat of the burning fire reminded him of home. Home had never been a familiar thing to Jack for a long time, he often yearned for one, for 300 years without his memories he had thought he’d never belonged anywhere. That he was destined to search endlessly for a place to call his own. Sure, the lake technically belonged to him but that’s all it was, a lake. The laughter came to a stop, Jack realised that it came from two people, a older, slim woman, her dark hair was tied back, streaks of grey graced her roots. Her eyes looked identical to the ones Jack stared into just minutes before. Her lips had formed into concerned frown. Her face was small, the wrinkles around her eyes had softened now she wasn’t smiling. “Jackson?” The women spoke. Jackson. Jack hadn’t heard that name in a long time, centuries in-fact, the last time he was called that was when he was. Human. Oh. 

“Jackson?” 

“Yes?” Jack replied hesitantly, maybe this was a dream. It had to be. 

“Help me do breakfast whilst I help your sister with her sewing”.

Sister. His sister. Jack looked at the younger girl, she looked painfully familiar, her messy brown hair fell over her eyes, it reminded him of Sophie. She looked up at him quizzically, as if to say what was wrong. She then proceeded to climb down from her chair and walk towards Jack. 

Jack wanted to run. It was all too much, the familiar sights, sounds, his sister. He wanted to fly away, to sit on a roof, to bury himself in snow. But he just stood there, shocked as the little girl wrapped her tiny arms around his waist. 

“Are you okay Jack?” Her voice asked, it was different to the one he remembered, her voice sounded calm, quiet. Not the panicked scream he heard on the ice. Jack choked back a sob, how could he have been so careless, going on the ice like that, without checking. It was his fault, all his fault. Jack bent down and scooped his sister up, she smelled like smoke and wood, she smelled like home. 

“Yes, I’m okay” Jack whispered, putting her down. Wiping the tears that had gathered around his eyes Jack turned to the kitchen area. Eyes trailing to the bowl that was currently being heated by some firery contraption. 

Jack had no idea how to cook.


	2. Jackson

Jackson woke up in snow. That was unusual for him, his humble cabin he called home tended to almost always shelter out the snow. He also wasn’t cold. Jackson was always cold, save for the few summer months that provided temporary relief from the cold bitter chill of winter. Jackson opened his eyes, to his surprise he was not safely tucked in his bed but he was outside by the river. Why was he outside by the river? Maybe he started sleep walking, Jackson reasoned with himself. Yes, that was it, sleep walking. Jackson went to pull his cloak around his thin frame out of habit but realised there was no cloak to pull on. Jackson looked down at himself. He was wearing a rather strange, light blue garment. However, he was still wearing his trousers. His trousers! Jackson looked down at them in a scrutinised manner, how in God’s name did they get so tattered, his mother only made them a few summers ago. With a light huff Jackson turned away from the lake and made his way to his village.

This was not his village.

His village was comprised out of small huts, mud roads, people. Not these giant grey houses with grey flooring outside and so many, weird moving contraptions. Jackson nearly turned and fled but a young voice called out his name.

“Jack?” shouted the voice, Jacksons head whipped round at the sound of his shortened name, only his sister and the kids in his village called him that, he preferred his full name, Jackson, being named after his father who saved him and his sister when they were being chased by wolves. He missed his father, he also missed being a child, apparently one had to grow up quick when there was one less source of income into the home. Jackson was too caught up in his thoughts to notice the small collection of children that he’d accumulated.

“Jack?” the voice said louder this time. Jackson turned towards the boy that was calling his name, he looked like an older, male version of his sister. His sister, maybe she too was lost in this strange world.

Looking around frantically, Jackson asked “Have you seen my sister?” the blank looks on the children’s faces said it all. His increasing concern for his sister grew when the boy replied back.

“Jack? Are you okay, you, you don’t have a sister?”

He didn’t have a sister? Of course, he had a sister he was supposed to take her ice-skating tomorrow. Jackson looked down at the boy in disbelief and annoyance, who was he to tell Jackson that he didn’t have a sister. Normally, Jackson was good with kids but all this stress about where he was, was indeed getting to him.

Jackson bent down to the boy’s height. “look” Jackson started “I have no idea where I am, I just woke up here, my town has been turned into, into” Jackson spread his arms wide as to indicate ‘this mess’. “I haven’t the faintest idea who any of you are and my name” Jackson could tell he was making these kids upset, he cared about children greatly but he also knew that kids’ weren’t the best at giving out answers unless you gave it to them straight. “My name is Jackson okay?” Jackson took a big gulp of air, unaware that he had stopped breathing. “Please” his voice broke, “please tell me where I am”.

The boy looked dumbfounded, “Jack? What’s gotten into you?”

“Yes Jack, what’s gotten into you” a velvet voice asked from the shadows.

The children and Jackson turned around, there, a man, with ashen grey skin, dressed in a black cloak, stalked over towards the children and Jackson himself. Jackson thought the man looked painfully ill and wanted to offer him some of his mothers’ homemade hot chocolate but for some reason the atmosphere told Jackson that that’s probably not a good idea.

“Poor, poor little Jack” the man bared his teeth. “All confused, whatever happened to you?” Jackson decided he didn’t like this man, this creepy ass man. His heart started pumping wildly, he couldn’t breathe, his chest hurt. The man was so close now and the children had backed away, Jackson had the sense that he too should be moving back, running away at least. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t move, his whole body was screaming at him to run. Jackson had never been this scared in his life, yes when his father died, he was sad and scared for what the future held but right now, Jackson felt like fear itself was making its home in his heart. Jackson hated it, he hated it and wanted the man to go away. To leave. Something must have heard his prayers because the grey mans face contorted into one of pain and white blinded Jacksons vision.

The Second time Jackson woke up he was laying on something soft. Too soft to be his bed. Too soft to be outside.

He opened his eyes. He was in a room, a room he’d never seen before, he couldn’t comprehend what it was, he couldn’t even name what anything in this room was. Jackson swung his legs out of the side of the bed and grabbed the nearest thing to him for support. A wooden staff. Immediately the staff covered itself with frost and he was tossed into the air. Jackson let out a loud yell and dropped the staff. The effects were immediate. His body dropped down onto the wooden floor with a crash. Jackson laid there, pondering to himself how he got into this mess in the first place. Maybe this was all a hyper realistic dream. Yes, that was it, all he had to do was wake up. Easy. Jackson closed his eyes.

“JACK!” a low-pitched voice exclaimed. “what are you doing? Floor is hard, no?” Jacksons eyes shot open, the pain from the fall seemed to be focused all to his head because swarms of black dots covered his vision. Jackson groaned as he closed his eyes once more. Nothing was making any sense. He just wanted to go home. Jackson was unaware that he had started crying until a large hand offered him a tissue. Jackson wiped his eyes, well tried to, was that ice? 

In front of Jackson stood a man. A man probably wasn’t the best way to describe him. Jackson was only 15 years old, he technically was a man himself. He knew what men looked like but this wasn’t it. This man looked like he could crush thirty deer under his arm and still be able to climb a mountain. The man had two drawings on his arm, naughty and nice. The man gazed down at Jackson in concern. Jackson was getting quite annoyed at that look. Everyone was giving him all these looks but no one was telling him where he was.

“I’m sorry” Jackson spoke, his voice felt a little bitch scratchy and the man seemed to know that as he pulled out a cup of water. Jackson drank it quickly, it felt like he hadn’t drunk anything in years. “I’m sorry, but who are you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uuuuuh this will probably have two more chapters, i'm extremely unmotivated tho, sorry


	3. Jackson

Jackson was still very weary of this stranger who called himself North, his mother always warned him to not follow strange men anywhere, but Jackson had no choice but to follow him. Maybe where he was would give him more answers.

He was so incredibly wrong.

Jackson was a man, he was a few weeks shy of 16 but a man nonetheless. He prided himself on his maturity, his ability to bring home food for his family. His mother needed him to be strong and so he was. Jackson could admit that it made him sad sometimes, he wanted to be as carefree as those children in Burgess. Not to worry about anything other than what to get for Christmas. That was partially the reason Jackson spent so much of his energy entertaining them, their smiles made him smile and right now, that’s all that mattered. Jackson considered himself a protector of the children of Burgess, a protector of fun. Jackson was a man and could explain anything, a gift that came with adult hood, reasoning everything away. Jackson, however, couldn’t explain this.

Toys, thousands of them. Flying. It was a sight that made Jackson grab onto a railing to stop himself from falling. It was impossible, toys didn’t just fly! Jack looked up towards a giant globe, glistening with billions of what Jack assumed were tiny candles. But they didn’t flicker. Jackson decided to ignore that tiny feature as it was, in simple terms beautiful. Jackson let himself be guided by North, North seemed to be the only normal thing here and he was going to grab onto that like he depended on it. Well, his mental state did. His brain was starting to hurt and Jackson knew that he was going to breakdown sooner or later.

They finally arrived, the room was spacious but warm, it emitted a calm aura which was a dramatic change from the atmosphere in which Jackson could only describe as a workshop. North sat down, the chair groaning from the size of him. Jackson wondered how one got that fat, he hardly ate enough to sustain his body. The man cracked his knuckles.

“Cookie?” the Russian man asked, Jackson stared at him, then down at the cookies, he’d never seen something so appetising before. Jackson grabbed one from the plate and carefully took a bite. A sweet flavour burst through his mouth, it tasted like coco but sweeter. Jackson didn’t think he’d tasted anything as sweet as this in his entire 15 years of existence. Jackson was about to grab another one, consumed by a childish desire for more, when he noticed Norths strange look. Jackson mumbled out “what?” between bites. Jackson may be considered responsible in his home town but he wasn’t in his home town anymore, and all these toys were setting alight a soft feeling in his chest that he hadn’t felt in a long time. North shook his head, eyeing Jackson over for a second.

“Explain the last thing that happened yes!” North grabbed his hot cup of hot chocolate and started to sip out of it. The normality of the action made Jackson reach for his own mug, it was cold, Jackson wished it was warmer but something in his brain was telling him that that was not a good idea. With a deep breath, Jackson started to explain.

He explained all of it, going to sleep in his bed, waking up in a forest that looked familiar yet was strange, weird moving contraptions that held people inside them and most importantly of all his sister. Jackson knew he got carried away talking about his sister, but the old man didn’t seem to mind. He just kept nodding along and letting Jackson explain. Once Jackson had finished, he felt lighter, less confused and afraid. It was a relief getting it all out in the open, North didn’t seem to think him crazy as the first words that came out of his mouth were “I understand”. Jackson couldn’t believe it, he was half expecting to be called a witch or at the very least insane. But then, Jackson considered that maybe he was actually insane as a six-foot rabbit and a flying humanoid bird made their way into the room they were in.  

Jackson didn’t want to be rude but he just kept staring. He was almost positive that his sister would love this, she loved adventures and strange things, and a talking bunny was at least, a bit peculiar. Jacksons manners kicked in, after all he wanted answers and he’d learnt the hard way that hostility and aggression lead you nowhere.

“Hello, the names Jackson” he said confidently, putting on his best ‘trying not to freak out in front of a giant bunny rabbit’ smile. The bunny looked at him, then looked at North, then back at him.

“What you talking about you bloody snow cone?”

“You’re a rabbit” Jackson couldn’t help it, it just slipped out, he stumbled over an apology.

“Why don’t you sit down Jack, I’ll explain to Bunny” Jackson was eternally grateful for the interruption.

It didn’t take long for North to explain what had happened to Bunny and the bird lady, the tone in the air had changed though, Jackson was acutely aware that they saw him as an intruder, an imposter. Which was stupid because he was himself and he’d never met these people in his life. Maybe they were mistaking him for someone else. Yes, that was it, this was all a huge misunderstanding. If he just explained it to them, maybe they could help him home.

“Umm, ex-excuse me” Jackson said carefully. He didn’t want his actions to be brash, the giant bunny looked trigger happy. “Can you please tell me where I am?”

North looked at him in surprise, clearly it never occurred to him to explain where he was, Jackson assumed he was in a cold part of the world, maybe Canada, he heard through traders that it was particularly cold there. Jackson had a bone to pick with the cold, and winter in general. It was when his family was at their most vulnerable. Some winters he was scared they wouldn’t make it through.

“You’re at the north pole!” North exclaimed proudly, waving his arms about, narrowly missing a small humanoid creature.

“The north pole” Jackson repeated. “The North Pole.” Jackson was aware his breathing had become erratic. He just wanted to go home, he’d had enough of adventures, he prayed to any god out there that he’d never go on one again, it was just all too much. He was in the middle of nowhere, he didn’t even know how he got there. He missed his sister, his mom, his bed and his home. He just wanted to go home.

“Jack!” called a female voice, he felt warm arms around him. Too warm, they were too warm. Jackson could feel pressure build up inside him, he felt like he was going to burst if it wasn’t released. With a strangled cry Jackson screamed to be let go. He just needed to outside, it was too crowed here. Jackson made a dash to the door, he grabbed the handle but it froze shut beneath him.

“What’s happening? Why can’t I, why can’t I get out. Please just let me out” Jackson was aware he sounded desperate but he just didn’t care. He wanted out and he wanted out now.

“Oi Frostbite calm down” Bunny reached his paw/hand towards Jackson.

“You’re soft” Jackson whispered. Jackson liked soft things, when he was younger, he often got told off for playing with the sheep outside his house. They were food not friends, his father often told him. Soft things were quite rare in his life apart from one toy he had, it was childish, even Jackson could admit that, but when Jackson felt like everything was too much, he’d grab onto it like his life depended on it. Which is why, it seemed like a perfectly logical step in Jacksons slowly cracking mind to grab onto the giant humanoid bunny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've actually got a pretty solid plan for this. Which is a major first in the four years i've been writing :)


	4. Jack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like every chapter I write, the end goal of the total of chapters I have increase?

Jack didn’t want to wake up from this dream, it was all so real, the taste of food, the smell of burning wood, the sound of his sisters laughter. Jack didn’t even realise that Sandy gave dreams like this.

Jack was sitting at the table, the wood was cracking in most places, some of the more serious damages had been filled with a mud like substance, Jack was pretty sure it stopped things falling through the table rather than keeping it together. Jack ate in silence, often nodding and humming along with whatever his little sister had said as she chatted excitedly through mouthfuls of food. Jack could get used to this, he could get used to his sister talking about the adventures she had with her friends the previous day, he could get used to his mothers raised eyebrow at some of the things she got up to. It was just so normal. Jack didn’t want to wake up, but a bittersweet feeling smothered his heart when he realised what it was, it was just a dream, he was reliving old memories and that’s all it was. 

But why did everything feel so real? 

Jacks spiralling thought processes were interrupted when he tuned into his sisters conversation. 

“Oh mummy, I just can’t wait, I’ve been a good girl all year, I’ve helped you with the sewing, cooking, everything mummy! I’m sure to get what I asked for this year! You too Jack, with all that helping you do around the house Santa is sure to get you Ice Skates too!” 

Jacks response got caught in his throat, the latter part of her tiny speech clawed and stabbed at Jacks brain in a panicky manner. He just didn’t understand, why would he dream about this. Jack brought his hands to his face, rubbing his eyes, if this was a dream then he could wake up right? Even if it was a nightmare, something Jack was sure it was going to turn into, he could still wake up. Right? Jack pinched himself much to the protests of his family. But nothing happened other than pain. Jack whined in frustration, it was one of the most basic forms of training of being a Guardian. He was trained from day one how to wake up from a bad dream. First, identify if you’re having a bad dream. Check. Secondly, know that the dream can’t hurt you. Kind of check? Thirdly, remove yourself from the dream through a pinching method. Definitely not check. 

Jack quietly excused himself from the table, he needed to breathe, this dream was becoming too realistic and he wanted out. Jack made his way to the front door, his bare feet protesting as the floor got noticeably colder as he approached it. Jack was so confused, so out of his depth. He’d never experienced something like this before. This dream or nightmare held too small of details to be just any old dream. Jack had never dreamt like this before and Jack solely doubted that Pitch had accumulated enough power to be able to include details such as the carvings of Jacks and his sisters name of a piece of lighter coloured wood across the fire place or how the floor boards creaked more loudly in some places than others or how his sisters cloak had a small stain at the bottom of it or how the surrounding area of that stain was a bit brighter than the rest of the cloak due to obvious rubbing. 

Jack came to a realisation, a realisation that he probably should have come too when he accidentally burned his hand on the fire he was making breakfast on, that he wasn’t in a dream, and this was all very. Very real. Jack opened the front door, gasping as a cold, piecing wave of cold hit every inch of his body. Jack slammed the door shut as if it was on reflex and swivelled around. Dread filled every inch of his bones, stones filled his stomach and throat. This wasn’t a dream.

 

After that jarring realisation Jack had made his way to what he assumed to be his room. Looking around it again he could see it was nearly bare, apart from the few things on the dresser top. Jack supposed it was quite fitting really, even as a spirit he only had the clothes on his back and his staff. But it wasn’t like he needed much, seeing as he had no where to put it. Maybe it was an odd trait he had, a trait that bled into his spirit life just like his love for making kids laugh did. He wondered how much of the same person he was now as he was back then? If he laughed the same, liked the same things. Jack couldn’t see himself collecting pretty stones like his human self did, in fact, he couldn't see himself collecting anything at all, his existence was too long, he would outlive the rest of his Guardians because he was winter, he was eternal, so to him, collecting small rocks and gems seemed pointless, and went against his very definition of fun.

Jack heard small footsteps behind him, he turned around, his sister was standing there, her eyes that of guilt. Jack stepped towards her, kneeling down to match her hight. Jack was sure he scared her earlier, with his frantic movements and odd behaviour. He opened his mouth to apologise but his sister reached for a hug. Jack, had never really been on the receiving end of a hug in his 400 years of existence, not even when he joined the Guardians. Hugs were rare, but Jack loved hugs, he craved them. They were silent ways of telling him that he was not alone and he treasured everyone he had. Jack hugged his sister back, a mumbled out an apology as he squeezed her closer.

“I’m sorry for mentioning Christmas Jack” his sister mumbled, her small voice sounding so sad and fragile. It made Jacks heart ache. He remembered when he was human, how his sister would often come home looking worn down, there would be mud around her chin where it was obvious she’s been pushed. Jack had tried to coax who it was out of her but he died before she could tell him the truth. Jacks only regret was not beating those kids to the ground for hurting his sister, but he felt like that was hypocritical coming from the person who hurt her the most. With a sigh he looked into her eyes, her eyes were red from crying and it made Jack feel so guilty. 

“Shh” Jack whispered reassuringly, “I had a very bad dream last night okay? I, I didn’t mean to upset you, okay?” Jacks sister gave a weak nod, her hands still clutching his neck as she hugged him tighter. 

“I know how sad Christmas is for you, and I just wanted you to be happy” the tiny whine in her voice painfully reminded Jack of how he sounded in his first years of talking to the moon, it was one of hopeless desperation. Jack took a deep breath, trying to remember why Christmas eve was such a sad day for him. Oh, that’s right. Jack felt guilty for forgetting, Christmas eve was when his dad died wasn’t it. His sister would have been to young to remember it, she was only three. But Jack, Jack remembered it all, the way his fathers voice screamed through the trees in pain, the moans of agony made Jack wake up in cold sweats some times. It was the only bad thing about remembering. 

But he’d had 400 years to come to terms with his dads death. He wasn’t that sad about it anymore. Death, it seemed, was a constant companion in his life, kids he’d play with grew up and died. People died in his blizzards, in cars due to his ice. He’s watched spirits die and wither away. Death was a constant part of being a spirit so he grew ice around his still heart to stop it from breaking. 

“It’s okay you jelly bean” Jacks said lightly, his sister raised an eyebrow at the unusual nickname and Jack forgot that jelly beans weren’t a thing yet. “I’m not sad, it was only a bad dream I had, come on” Jack gestured to his bed, “let me tell you a story”. His sisters eyes lit up. Jack remembered how he’d always tell his sister a story when she was sad, her favourite ones where the tales infused with magic and adventure. And Jack knew the perfect story with magic and adventure. As they walked towards the bed, Jack was acutely aware that he was probably going to die tomorrow, if his dates are correct. He had a few run ins with Father Time and was constantly reminded that if he ever found himself in a situation where he could change an important event. To not. Jack thought that was weirdly on the nose with this situation, it was almost as if Father Time new this was going to happen. Jack wouldn’t be surprised if he did, but Father Time never looked too worried about Jack so he assumed that nothing bad happened, after all, if he remembered correctly with all the lectures of paradoxes and outcomes of changing past events, he wouldn’t even exist as a spirt if he did end up changing his future. And Jack, even though he was aware this was inherently selfish, didn’t want to give up his future as a spirit, yes, he did want to live the rest of his life with his sister, find someone to love and cherish until he was old and slightly grey but his spirit life, even though spent in crippling loneliness for the majority of it, was an adventure he didn’t want to end. Jacks sister rested her head in his lap, Jacks fingers played gently in her hair as he made up his mind. He’d been to his sisters grave, as morbid as that sounds, she had a life, a good one, surrounded by people who loved her. She was a strong girl, and Jack felt immensely guilty for leaving her but he was needed too, needed in something much bigger than a simple farming life, and Jack feared the world would kill him in another way if not tomorrow in that lake. 

Jack breathed deeply and looked down at his sisters closed eyes, she was waiting for a story and Jack was going to give her one she’d never forget. 

 

Jack almost forgot how good he was at story telling, he didn’t do it much, the kids who he interacted with were more interested in snow days and running around then sitting down and listening to what stories Jack had to tell, and he didn’t blame them, snowball fights were more fun than scary stories. Jacks sister had sat in silence through the whole time he was speaking, his arms often moved around him as he talked, and at one point he had to get up so he could show her how the boy defeated to nightmare king. When he finished she was positively glowing, her eyes were lit up in wonder as she commented on how very real the whole story was.

“Your storytelling has improved Jack!” She said gleefully as she scrambled down from the bed, “my favourite part was when the big giant bunny turned small and fluffy” His sister imitated petting a small rabbit as she laughed. “Oh Jack! I can’t wait for tonight, can we try and catch Santa! Pleaseeeee, pleasee!” Jack only laughed and ushered his sister out of his room. 

“Go on, I can here mom calling you” 

With a gentle sigh his sister turned around and made her way downstairs. 

 

...

 

A plan was developing in Jacks mind.

It was a stupid one, but maybe, maybe it just might work. 

It was nightfall by the time Jack had stopped scheming, he could hear his sisters hurried steps as she made her way up stairs, she passed his room and quipped a cheeky remark on how he should look out for coal and made her way into her room. Once her door was closed Jack made his way downstairs. 

His mum was there, washing up the remaining dishes from earlier that day, it was his turn to miss dinner, him and his mum often had to take it in turns for food to last, as none of them wanted the youngest to go to bed hungry, especially on Christmas eve. Jack smiled gently at her, he always remembered having a close relationship with his mother, but at the same time it was almost distant, as if she was preparing herself for the worst. And Jack couldn’t blame her, she had every right to, considering the outcome of his fate. He wished he could sooth her, to comfort her and reassure that he’ll be okay, that he wasn’t going to die but live forever but he had no idea how to do such a thing. 

Jack quietly helped his mother dry the dishes, he noticed how her shoulders sagged when she thought he wasn’t looking. The sight made him sad, she was a wonderful mother, she kept them safe and happy, he remembered a lot of happy memories with her when she was younger, but old age and grief seemed to have taken the best of her with her husband. But she still had some energy reserved for his sister and for that he was thankful. 

“It’s okay, I’ll do the rest” Jack said quietly, his mothers weary and tired face changed into one of gratitude as she placed the wet dish on the side, she smiled warmly and kissed the top of his head, tears threatened to crawl out if his eyes and she lingered there for a while. Jack had missed his mother, he was always a bit envious of Jamie and Sophie, their mother was a caring one, a mother who was always there when they got sad. Jack envied it because he wanted that too, just one last kiss or hug or I love you from his mum and Jack felt like the hole inside of him would go, but now Jack realised he was wrong, it wouldn't close up, only make it bigger. A part of Jack wanted to stay now, to feel his mothers warmth and love, but he couldn’t, he couldn’t stay here, as a human, he couldn’t stay with the knowledge of when everyone he loved would die. It would break Jack more than being alone for 300 years.

The loss of heat alerted Jack that his mother had pulled away, with a quick goodnight and being told not to stay up too late she made her way up the stairs and pulled the door closed silently behind her. 

Jack finished up washing the dishes and sat on the makeshift sofa. With a new set of determination running through his veins, Jack waited. 

 

He was going to catch Santa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest chapter I’ve written and I wanted to write more but I have course work to do :(


	5. Jack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh I wanted this to be longer but it kinda came to a nAtural end. I just did paper 1 English language and paper 1 psychology today, got like 3 more to go :)

He faintly remembers doing this as a child, staying up to catch North. He never managed it, Sandy’s dream sand always managed to get to him in the end. He had asked North once, if any child had seen him in the act and he proudly puffed out his chest and proclaimed that no, no ordinary child had caught him. Jack was going to change that. Jack knew Sandy’s dream sand would strike first but he wasn’t worried, Sandy always targeted Children, Jack wasn’t a child. Jack had noticed that about Sandy, he never gave dreams to those who had grown up, who, in the words of North himself, had lost wonder. Jack had never agreed with them personally, teenagers and adults often showed wonder in different ways, yes it was no where near as rewarding as children’s wonder, but nonetheless it was still wonder and it annoyed Jack that the Guardians didn’t take notice. 

So Jack just sat. Decades upon decades of being a spirit helped Jack learn the rewarding ability of patience, something that his human self had little of. Despite never ageing physically, he had mentally. Jack used to hear his parents talk in soft worried whispers about him, Jack had problems dealing with things apparently. He’d close up, react in a way that hurt himself and potentially others. It was a trait that made Jack vulnerable to the constant push and pull that winter had on his mind, it was the main reason for ‘68. Jack winced at the memory, it wasn't a pleasant one and it had become groggy to remember but the feelings were still there. The feelings of pure terror and rage. 

Jack sighed, he really didn’t like to think about it. 

Adjusting the thin blanket that he’d thrown over his legs Jack wondered how North would react, would he run off, tell Jack to go to bed, would he even believe him? After all, he’s never heard of the spirit Jack Frost before because he didn’t exist yet. 

Jack thought for a moment, a list of scenarios running through his head, North wouldn’t believe him, of course he wouldn’t. Jack won’t believe himself either. Jack could hear the soft crunch of footsteps above him, a soft thud accompanied them. The sack. Jack had always wondered how big it was inside. Well, Jack thought slyly. Time to find out.

A cold breeze greeted jack as small noises could be heard within the chimney, a lump formed in Jacks throat. This was it, it was now or never. He took a deep breath and exhaled just as North came down the chimney. 

North wasn’t as different as he remembered, a bit skinnier but more or less the same. Jack shifted uncomfortably from his hiding spot, he missed his past, but he certainly did not miss the awkwardness of the uneven wooden floors. North hummed merrily as he placed the sack down, small neatly wrapped presents toppled from the top and landed near Jacks hiding spot. Jack held his breath as North wondered over, Jack needed not to worry though because it looked like the old man was just as dense as he was jolly. Jack felt a smile itch upon his face. North was many things, loving, outgoing, incredibly sensitive to the needs of the people around him, but his time away from well, people, had dampened his ability to look deeper into people, sure he realised that Jack had a deeper, more meaningful side to him, which of course was his centre. But Jack noticed North simply couldn’t grasp the fact that sometimes Jack did bad things. It seemed as though North was incapable of seeing more than one side of a person. Sometimes Jack was thankful.

North gently picked up the present and placed it under their tree, it was a simple tree, small, lush green and smelled like his forest. There was a single hanging decoration swinging alone on one or the bottom branches. It was made out of dried mud and sticks in shape of a snowflake. Jack remembered when she had made it, his sister declared in her own stubborn manner that it was a tragedy that that tree was all alone with no company. Jacks heart twitched painfully, he was going to leave her, leave her all alone. Jack shook his head, careful not to make any real movements. If his sister knew what was to come, he would tell her to go. Jack had seen her grave stone, Jack knew she ended up happy in the end. 

North finally picked up a handful of presents from the sack and approached the door, the door opened silently and North slipped up the stairs. Jack eased out of his hiding place, the wooden floor had left zig zag impressions in his pale skin. Tip toeing quietly, Jack realised, was a bit difficult when their wasn’t the wind so soften your steps. A quiet thrill shot through Jack as he thought about the wind. The wind was a gentle presence, a constant reminder that he never truly was alone. He missed the wind, the bodiless presence that acted like a protective barrier whenever a harmful spirit came close. Which unfortunately, tended to be all of them. 

With as much grace as Jacks clumsy human body could muster, Jack slipped inside the sack, thanking his quick thinking of putting his small cotton bag outside his door so North needed not to go into his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any grammar mistakes, i did just do a 2 hour and 30 minute English exam :,)


	6. Jack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll pop a Jackson chapter up next

Jack was starting to think that he’s been taking the abundance of patience he’d seem to have acquired over the years for granted, Jack sighed softly as he moved a piece of his hair out of his eyes. Jack had forgotten how wild it used to be, it kept flopping into his eyes, no wonder why this body was so clumsy, it couldn’t bloody see. 

The sack he was in jostled suddenly and Jack felt it being lifted up into the air. The smell of cookies wafted in through the stitching, making Jacks stomach protest in hunger. Hunger was also a new concept to him, he’d forgotten how high maintenance alive people were, and by the shape of his ribs, Jack realised he should probably munch down on something soon. Suddenly the movement came to a halt, Jack hoped his stomach hadn’t been too loud, it would be such a waste for North to find him now. He needed to be in a position were North couldn’t just toss him back into the real world. He had to find a way for this all to make sense, to explain it to him in a way that wouldn’t sound so insane. 

Jack chuckled under his breath, insane was a touchy subject for Jack, he obviously wouldn’t push it that far but Jack had seen, done and thought some terrible terrible things sometimes, he’d often wondered if fate would catch up to him. Jack guessed it just had.

The room went silent, heavy footsteps got increasingly more lighter as North walked away. Jack peeked his head out of the sack, is arm had cramped slightly from being crushed by what looked like a small wooden bat. Jack looked down at it quizzically, wondering why the child hadn’t received it. Maybe they were naughty. Maybe they had died. His brain supplied. Jack rolled his eyes, sometimes he wished he could scoop that useless thing out, he was sure it didn’t work, just like his heart, just frozen.

The room he was in was dimly lit, he could still smell the sent of cookies but it was fainter now, replaced by the earthy smell of wood. It was a damp smell, hinting to Jack that he was probably under the workshop, somewhere he hadn’t been before. Jack groaned in frustration, this was going to make it a bit harder if he didn’t know where the moon he was. With a little less enthusiasm than he had before, Jack climbed out of the sack, a small hard ball conveniently situating itself under Jacks foot, causing him to fall over. Jack cursed as the ground rushed to meet his face.

“oh fu.”

...

Jack had never been the one to dream. Not as a spirit anyway, he supposed it was because he was dead, and the magic running through his veins certainly didn’t think dreams was a necessary life function to keep him running. Sandy had tried to give him dreams once, sadly they just swirled around his head, jabbing ever so often towards him forehead, as if in protest that they couldn’t climb into that head of his. Jack was silently thankful, after all, what types of dreams would he have?

Would they be full of life? Colours bleeding into other colours, children smiling, warm flickering of the flames in Norths workshop. Or would it be empty, just snow for miles and miles and miles. 

Jack remembered when all he would see what white. It had been the first couple of years into his existence and he’d been pulled into the frozen dessert that was Antarctica, he had stayed their for a while, after being walked through in that strange village, he didn’t want to be near anything remotely alive. Just a painful reminder of how very dead he felt. Jack had stayed their for a good 50 years. Just lying in the snow, making snow storms, befriending nothing but the piles of snow he had made for company. It was red that he first saw. 

Red was, in Jacks mind, a beautiful colour. Of course it wouldn’t suit him, his skin was too pale, it would wash him out. But red was the colour Jack spent most of his time simultaneously trying to run to and from. It was like a double edged sword, nothing good ever came from where red was, but by the moon did it look so striking against all this white.  
It was only a drop mind you, a single drop of red. And Jack wasn’t sure where it had come from. But that single drop became two and then three. It was falling from the sky. Jack hadn’t experienced what rain was, in some far distant memory that he wasn’t even sure was real, Jack felt like he liked rain. But Jack was sure it wasn’t red. Oh well, Jack had liked this red rain too. But it wasn’t rain. And Jack remembered looking at this poor creature for what had felt like hours, but Jack assumed it was longer than that because maggots had begun crawling out of it’s pale cheeks. The red seemed to have come from that hole in it’s chest. 

This was the first time Jack had come into contact with someone else in a long time and Jack had wondered if they to were going to wake up, alone and frightened just like he did. So Jack had waited, and the red turned to brown. Jack didn’t like the colour brown that much so he left.

...

Jack could hear voices. A deep rumbling voice that sounded comforting and familiar. The sheets below him were soft and warm, Jack had only been human for a day or maybe more, but warmth was something he never wanted to forget. It was like the very air around him was embracing him, running it’s hot fingers down his arms and body, kissing him gently on the forehead. Jack couldn’t link warmth with that summer spirit who was always rushing around with that stoney expression on his face. Jack felt a pang of jealousy, he’d be a much better summer spirit, see how Taylor* liked having ice for tears.

Jack felt something cool on his forehead and he groaned in frustration, his hands reached upwards to take the darn thing off. 

“Ah!” A jolly voice exclaimed “he is awake!”

Jacks eyes opened slowly, as if his brain was on slo mo and was just catching up to what was happening. 

This wasn’t good.

The gravity of the situation seemed to be too much for this body to handle however as a distressed whine slipped out of Jacks throat. Crap crap crap crap. Jack thought or apparently didn’t as another voice chipped in.

“Well isn’t he a nice one” the voice was rough, thick with an accent that was a bit softer around the edges then the accent North boomed out. It also helpfully smelled of chocolate.

“Bunny?” Jack would have liked to say that his voice sounded strong, unfortunately it sounded harsh even to his own ears. Jack could see Bunny’s eyes widen slightly. Bunny hadn’t changed. Jack could feel a lump form at the back of his throat. He and Bunny hadn’t necessarily always gotten along, always clashing in terms of opinions and just generally anything. Jack viewed Bunny as a brother more than anything, but Jack had forgotten for so long what it was like to have a family that Jack kept forgetting how to act around him, how to act around everyone really. Was contact okay? Was it too much contact? Too little? Did they want him to stay or go? To laugh or to be silent? Jack, with little experience with lifeforms in general, found it so overwhelming sometimes that he just stayed away. He knew it was his own fault, this rift that had formed between him and the guardians, but he was born alone and didn’t know how to be anything other than that.

Jack had to think of something to say and fast. North seemed to have gathered almost everyone, much to Jacks relief and dismay. Sandy would be easy to convince, Tooth maybe, North and Bunny were a different story all together. He needed something to catch their attention. To make them listen to him. 

Unfortunately nothing came to mind as the first thing that slipped out of his mouth went something like. 

“I’m going to die tomorrow and I need your help to make sure it happens”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any grammar mistakes.
> 
>  
> 
> * oh that’s the name I gave the summer spirit, I always see people give them really beautiful and fae like names but like, Jack is a normal name, I just figured all the seasonal spirits had died in their element, therefore keeping their original name but loosing their last?


End file.
